


Unholy

by SalamanderInk



Series: Unholy Trinity [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Banter, Deal with a Devil, Demon Summoning, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loneliness, M/M, Merchant of Death Tony Stark, Pre-Iron Man 1, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Negotiation, SugarDemon Loki, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony doesn't care if he's going to hell; but he's going in style, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, Word Games, demon loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/pseuds/SalamanderInk
Summary: Is Tony rich? Yes. Is he a jerk? Also yes.Does he care? Not at all.Does that mean he's going to let himself be dragged to hell, fire and brimstones and all, in order to become demon chow just because his hands happen to be a little bloody?Hell no.Time to be a little proactive about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebifrostgiant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebifrostgiant/gifts).

> This fic is once again entirely [NamelesslyNighlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock)'s fault entirely. Blame her. And go read her fics, they're brilliant.  
The original prompt is from tumblr, and is more or less about a human getting a demon SugarDaddy in order to make their stay in hell much more pleasant. I thought it was hilarious.

Tony Stark was on top of the world. 

To be fair, he’d been born on top and he’d only climbed further up since he came into his own. He’d climbed and he’d clawed and he’d stepped over heads and feet and other people’s clawing hands, because he knew that his place was up there, above everyone else, and he was certainly not going to let his “godfather”’s greedy fingers snatch it from under his feet. 

He could see it, of course, their greed, their envy, their rage as they looked at him, so far above them. 

They hated him, they reviled him. 

And Tony reveled in it. 

Merchant of Death, they called him. Heartless, monster, living on blood money and widows’ tears. 

Tony took each of these names as his badges of pride and honor. 

He was at the top of the world, after all, what could possibly reach him? 

People loved him as much as they hated him, the poor things, they threw themselves at him hoping that he would grace them with the barest hints of his own fortune, hoping perhaps to bask in his fame, in his spotlight for a night, and of course Tony obliged. 

Was that not the way the world worked? The less fortunate currying the favor of their betters? 

People had been licking his boots since he was old enough to wear them after all. 

And if some of them were scheming behind his back in order to claw their _own_ place to the top? 

It was only natural, of course. There was nothing personal into it. There was no anger, no crushing feeling of hurt and betrayal in his heart when he’d found out about Obie’s plans to “dispose” of him. 

He hadn’t been the first two-faced weasel he’d been faced with. He hadn’t been the first friendly face to make an attempt on his life either. He _had_ however been the one to play the longest game so far. 

Tony could respect that. 

What he couldn’t do, of course, was let him live. 

It was all very tragic of course, and he had dutifully wept on the funeral stand, making a heartbreaking eulogy for his beloved mentor, the one man who had selflessly helped a grieving and lost teenager shoulder the immense burden of a company employing millions of people across the world, helping him face the numerous responsibilities he had been completely unprepared for. 

All a careful fabrication of course, with some grains of truth for authenticity. 

Tony knew how to play the media. He’d been their darling and their most hated both for as long as he could remember. It was a fine line to walk, but all part of the game. 

One couldn’t be on top of the world if the world didn’t somehow still want you there. 

The Da Vinci of his time, the most eligible bachelor, everyone knew his name. 

And yes, maybe it _had_ gotten to his head. 

Tony was young, beautiful, _reckless._ A hedonist, who took what he wanted when he wanted, one who had his whole life in front of him sparkling brightly with low effort and high rewards. 

And he used that image well. 

Most businessmen underestimated him, thinking him young and easily distracted by good booze and pretty ladies. They thought him easily malleable, easily tricked. They smelled fresh blood. 

They never realized that they were playing right into his hands. Tony only ever showed the world what it wanted to see, the perfectly manufactured image made to please the masses and keep them off his back. 

It wasn’t _wrong_ per say. Indeed it held some kernels of truth. Tony was indeed young, and he certainly didn’t deprive himself of anything he wanted. Why would he? 

But that was certainly not all he was. 

People seemed to forget that for all the media called him a reckless youth, for all his scandals, he was still the head of the most powerful mega-corporation to date. 

He was careful, ruthless, watchful, calculative and _he never made mistakes. _

And so he was on top of the world and he was planning on staying there for quite a while. 

And yet, since that whole nasty business with Obadiah, something was niggling at him. A grating thought, a persistent worry that kept disturbing him whenever he let his mind rest. He couldn’t _not_ dwell on it. 

His pleasures felt fleeting and empty, hearty meals tasted like ashes. Moments of leisure started feeling more and more like torments, but he just knew… 

This was an issue for which he needed to find a solution as soon as possible. 

Holding that gun pointed at a frozen helpless Obie only made him realize the fleetingness of life, the sheer impermanence of his mortality. Everything he’d done, worked for, enjoyed? It could all crumble to dust in the blink of an eye. It could all be gone in the blink of an eye, less than a second. 

He’d spent most of his life designing weapons, ways to kill faster and better, ways to spread destruction to a bigger and bigger radius. 

And yet his own death had never occurred to him, never appeared even remotely real. 

He was at the top of the world. Untouchable. 

But still mortal. 

Tony wasn’t an idiot. He knew far too well that breaking the laws of the Universe just to extend or safeguard his living status could only end poorly. He was a physicist. He knew there were laws you could bend, but only so far. And he had no desire to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder terrified that his cheat was coming to an end, that his time was running out and nothing he could do would stop what was to come. 

No, stalling the inevitable was not the way. When one ran, they became prey, easy picking, and they lost all ability to control the situation. 

Tony had no intention to let this become his fate. 

Death would come. His death. At one point or another, he would have to face the consequences of the blood in his hands, direct and indirect. 

There were enough crackpots magicians who had opened doorways into hell and summoned infernal beings that he already pretty much knew what would await him if he stayed on his path like the most pampered of sitting ducks. 

Tony Stark was a futurist. A visionary. 

He fully intended to leave this world having left his mark, a legacy that would be spoken of for generations. 

He also fully intended to lead the same comfortable lifestyle from beyond the grave than before. 

Both goals required forethought. 

The first was easy enough. He was almost there, had quite a few plans in place, contingencies, wealths of data and blueprints, new technologies that would revolutionize the entire world. 

And, considering the coming environmental collapse, perhaps even _save it._

Tony Stark, Merchant of Death, Earth’s Savior. 

It had a nice ring. 

The other issue, on the other hand? 

It required a skillset he did not quite have. Yet. 

He knew already from various accounts (and quite a few hacks in very secure servers) that the realm of hell was populated and ruled by demons. 

By all means, it only meant one thing. Tony simply needed to ingratiate himself to one of those and his afterlife would be as cushy as his Sugar Demon could make it. 

Granted, Tony knew it was not ideal, to always depend on the goodwill of a benefactor was far from his preferred solution, but all accounts were positive on this point, human souls in the afterlife had close to no standing at all, and there would be no exceptions to that rule. 

It mattered little in the end. Tony knew how to make himself invaluable. He knew how to charm, entice, and play exactly the part that was expected, show exactly the face that people wanted to see. He already did, after all. Fooling a big brutish demon shouldn’t be too hard. Deceiving arrogant idiots who thought themselves better than anybody was child’s play. Or maybe he could luck out and find a pretty lady who could be easily seduced? 

Whatever happened, Tony knew he couldn’t make any informed decisions or plans without gathering more information and figuring out how that all summoning business worked. 

That was only a matter of time and money. And a lot of dubiously legal researching. 

An old tome of sacred demonology later, authentified by the leading expert, a few other tomes cross referencing the information, some ancient texts on demon lore and culture all pointed out the potential flaws of his plan. 

Most demons were only minor entities who had barely any pull on the workings of the Infernal plane, let alone enough influence to keep a human in their midst safe. 

His only option would be the King of Hell himself, a demon reputed as wily and unpredictable, quick to anger and easily bored. Cruel to be kind and whimsical, and despising of any deceit directed at him. 

Sharp and clever, impulsive and calculative. 

It was a rather grim prospect. 

Tony knew the type. 

He was one of those, after all. 

Tony shivered. Too clever for his own good, hated and beloved all at once. The Demon King was at the top of _his_ world. And Tony quite seriously intended to be right below him. Or perhaps _under_ him might be more accurate? 

After all, Tony was quite willing to use every persuasion tool at his disposal. He knew deceit would not work. If that Demon King truly was like him, he would see through it immediately. However, knowing himself, something new, shiny and entertaining could be the way to get an opportunity. A show of competence would be what would let him stay. 

Though those were only conjectures. 

He did know, however, that sex did help smooth the way in many cases. 

Tony knew sex. He might not know sex as a bottom, due to various reasons not necessarily linked to personnal aversion or belief, but he still knew the mechanics of it. He’d been on the other side of it plenty of times. It couldn’t be too different. 

And if there was one thing that was true, it was that Tony was _good_ at sex. 

And that had helped many a negotiation before. Orgasms were good for mellowing people, facilitating communication and helping former opposition to come to see things _his way._

Tony certainly wasn’t going to relinquinch one of his best arguments simply due to some mild squeamishness. There was no reason to be nervous. 

His best weapon would probably be sheer ballsiness anyway. There would be no time for pussifooting or first time jitters. 

Neither for sex nor for the actual process for demon summoning. Any small misstep, any catch in the breath, any trembling hands at the wrong moment, anything going wrong at all could apparently end up with Tony being pulled into Limbo for the rest of eternity. 

Of course, of course the penalties would be worse the greater the demon one was calling. And as much as Hell sounded unpleasant, Limbo was even moreso. Sheer nothingness, no stimuli, no sound, no change, _nothing_. Tony would go mad before the end of the first week, let alone how many centuries counted as an “eternity”. 

However, he had no intention of trying out any kind of trial run with any other minor demons. 

For one thing, a not insignificant part of his plans required secrecy and the effect of surprise, from both sides of the veil. 

Secondly, he rather thought that even interacting with a single demon would give Tony a frame of reference for how a demon should be, expectations one could say. And that was a very very dangerous thing when dealing with one of Tony’s ilk. 

Any kind of assumption, or prediction, or conjecture would be met with both scorn and vicious glee, the delight of using them against those who dared try to put them in too small-minded boxes, who ever dared to think them so simple as to be _deductible._

That was about the only predictable thing about Tony. 

Which was why Tony had decided that he had best perform that ritual sooner rather than later. Otherthinking it could only lead to doubts, what-ifs, and _expectations. _

Sometimes, one had to run before they walked. 

It didn’t mean he couldn’t make sure to get a few aces up his sleeve in the meantime, some old and powerful artifacts as guarantee. After all, it did good to be prepared. And where he did not have knowledge or ability to protect himself, he at least had the money to do it.

After that, the most important thing in ritual planning was _precision._ Not even a single millimeter of deviation in the sigils, not the slightest mistake in the curvature of an arc, or in the order in which each line should be drawn. Not a single falter in his voice, no mistake in pronunciation, cadence or intonation. 

This spell required perfection, and luckily Tony had always been exceedingly careful where it mattered. 

Of course it went on without a hitch. 

And then the moment of truth would show whether the King had deigned answer his summons, whether he was intrigued enough, or bored enough, or pissed enough to allow himself to be pulled through the gap between the planes Tony had opened. 

Tony could only wait. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to add a Stars(TM) note at the end of the chapter, a small snippet that honestly didn't fit anywhere else, but there are already two planned sequels for this so stay posted!

The emptied lab was silent in the wake of the ancient chants, the sweet incense heady in Tony’s nose. The air was charged, almost crackling with a power even someone as inexperienced as Tony could perceive. 

Tony’s vision was blurry. He felt exhausted, but every book had said it was normal. Each ritual was powered in part with the Summoner’s life force, since only the spark of the living could cross through the veil. 

He knew the extent of his exhaustion was not normal per se, but it was to be expected since the more powerful the demon, the wider the doorway, and the more spark was needed. 

Said spark was always part of the offering to the demon as well. That was also why Tony hadn’t wanted to start summoning minor demons as practice. He had no intention of giving that many demons power over him. One was already more than enough. And such only if all went to plan. Otherise, he hoped plan B could work, but it was less than a desirable outcome. 

Tony’s breathing was laboured as he swayed, lightheadedness striking him unexpectedly. He’d hoped for a bit more time, for sheer willpower to be enough to let him power through the negotiations. It didn’t matter if he crumpled for days afterwards. He’d done that many times before. 

Though it appeared that the use of Lifeforce energy was more draining than week long lab binges. 

Showing weakness as their first act as a Summoner was a terrible idea, and yet it appeared that Tony’s body didn’t care to listen to his protestations. 

His eyelids were heavy, his limbs leaden. The Codex slipped from numb fingers and clattered to the ground as Tony strained to remain standing. 

His neck felt soft as his head lolled. Half lidded eyes glimpsing the book on the floor. It had smeared the arrays. 

Some niggling thought reminded him that it was a very very bad thing, but it felt distant. For the life of him he couldn’t muster up the energy to remember why. 

In fact, as his knees gave out under him, thinking anything at all was getting harder and harder. The very air was too heavy, too hot, he was breathing through molasses. Black spots appeared before his eyes. His ears were ringing. 

The last thing he felt before oblivion took him were strong arms around him, catching him right before his face met the ground. 

And the world went dark. 

*****

When Tony came to, he was laying on a comfortable couch, his head on someone’s lap. Long careful fingers were carding through his hair, slowly petting him in a way that felt so soothing, Tony almost went back to sleep. 

Until he remembered that it was impossible. 

No one should have been able to get inside his lab while he was doing the ritual…

The ritual. 

Something had gone wrong. 

Or rather everything had gone right right until it was done. Tony wasn’t in limbo. The couch under him felt very much like his own leather couch that he’s left in the corner of the lab for intermittent catnaps while he was setting everything up. 

But he could remember having done everything right, performing each step with the meticulousness he’d learned wiring delicate circuitry, chanting with the elocution he’d learned through presenting speeches to the press, to auditoriums full of too easily bored students and vultures ready to pick at his words for the barest hint of weakness. 

He knew it had been perfect. 

Tony Stark didn’t make mistakes. 

Except he had. 

He could feel himself tense up as he remembered the smudged lines, the broken pentacle warding him away from the entity he would be calling forth, the drain on his energy as it was used to pull the gate open, the arms around him as the world went dark… 

Deliberately, he relaxed himself. Hesitation and perceived weaknesses could only be used against him. _ Appear at ease in any setting and you will have the advantage. _

Funny how many small bits of wisdom his old man had left him with. 

His amulet was still humming on his chest. The precautions he’d taken in case the circle got broken were still there. He was at least protected against demonic magic. 

Though nothing could stop the Demon King from ripping him apart with his bare hands if the fancy took him. 

With that in mind, he opened his eyes and turned to his… savior, a cocky smirk painted on his lips. 

He had to force himself not to blink in surprise. 

He knew, of course, not to rely on expectations, and yet. 

But he truly hadn’t expected the King to be so… _ beautiful. _ So unexpected, exotic, and _ totally his type. _

And blue. Very very blue, with thin lines coursing all over his exposed skin and framing his face in a way that only made his high cheekbones more lovely, the corners of his jaw sharper, and the imposing ram horns curling behind his ears majestic. 

And a smirk that reflected his own, but with an edge that was less cockiness and more mischief, less self assurance and more cruelty. 

Tony was in trouble. 

He rather thought he could guess what he was faced with now. Elegant but wild, delicate but powerful. Mercurial in moods but single minded, playful but very very ruthless. 

And all over _ incredibly dangerous. _

Tony was in deep deep trouble, but he could work with that. 

He rather liked trouble anyway. 

“Are you recovered then, mortal?” 

The voice was silky, soft in tone but carrying an underlying threat that Tony blissfully ignored. He would not be cowed simply through someone’s _ intonation. _

He smiled instead, mirroring the other’s impishness. 

“I don’t believe I will ever recover from the sight of such otherworldly beauty as yours.”

The King raised a delicate eyebrow in answer, something deeply amused glinting in his red eyes. 

Amused was good. Much better than irritated.

“My, my, I do believe I caught myself a flatterer. How fortunate.” 

That was a dance Tony knew well. Bantering, trading barbs and flirts alike, he’d been doing this all his life. 

However, this was perhaps the first time he could be doing it with someone who knew what was going on and played the game just as well. 

His smile widened at the challenge. 

“Why, there is no need for flattery when there simply speaking the truth is enough. Are you sure I’m allowed to look at you? Because I feel like so much beauty should be forbidden.” 

At that the King chuckled, shaking his head slowly at Tony’s ridiculousness. 

Tony counted it as a success. Humor was one of the most effective tools to get close to someone. 

However he knew better than to trust the reactions he was shown. More than once he’d seen people laugh as a way to destabilize and make people feel as though they had a rapport, only to turn back around and shoot them. Sometimes literally. 

He didn’t think it was the case this time. It was very likely that he wasn’t being taken seriously, but Tony had always been good at reading people. He’d had to, with the life he led, and he knew what a laugh fueled by scorn sounded like. He could see the fakeness in people’s expressions, the lies, the greed. 

It was what had let him survive this long after all. 

Of course he knew better than to believe himself able to read a thousand year old demon like an open book, much less one reputed for his unpredictability, but he rather thought he could still rely on his gut feelings. 

And those told him that laugh, and the following smile were genuine. 

Tony had managed to prove himself entertaining at least, and that was half of what he was hoping to accomplish already. 

Granted, it probably wasn’t his extreme show of competence that had impressed the demon so far, but there was still time. 

“Tell me, then, mortal. What do you seek? That game of words his well and good, but I expect you did not call me here simply to compliment my allure, did you?”

The Demon King lowered his face to Tony’s prone form. His eyes were glinting dangerously, all traces of fond merriment gone. 

Suddenly Tony remembered that this was the one being that had struck so much fear in the heart of the chroniclers that none had dared to write down his True Name, the one thing that was supposed to give the Summoner power over the demon. 

This was the being who had decided on a whim to strike down the horror who had tried to wipe humanity a century ago, and then turned around and razed their greatest city himself just because they had dared consider him their savior and calling on him as though he was beholden to their wishes. 

Tony remembered what he’d thought before. Mercurial, playful. Dangerous. So very dangerous. 

Tony had always been attracted to danger. 

Even when there were clawed hands pulling at his scalp, holding his face still. 

In fact, especially then. 

His smile didn’t falter in the face of the demon’s unspoken threat, though it grew more mischievous. 

“Why, my lord, can one not simply call on you to bask in your presence?”

The king’s face remained serious, his brows furrowed in thought. Most people would be terrified by this. The red eyes, the fearsome frown, the lips pulled down ever so slightly, all would point out to a storm brewing, the snake in the grass preparing to lash out. 

But Tony knew better. The lips were pursed in thought, the thin brows furrowed in concentration. And there was some kindling of respect in those red red eyes, and so Tony counted it as yet another win in his favor. His gamble had paid off, cockiness and fearlessness really were the way to stand out from the countless sycophant the King must be surrounded with, day in day out. With some luck he would make enough of an impression for the demon to actually _ like him _ and remember him when the time came. 

“No. They cannot. Do not waste my time mortal.”

And that was his cue to stop playing around and start talking before the King’s patience ran out and he stopped humoring him. 

He’d already been quite gracious for a demon, starting with not ripping him apart the moment his protection circle was broken. 

The game’s rules had changed. 

No reason to start being an annoyance. 

“That is true. I did summon you with a specific goal in mind. That does not make what I said any less true, however.”

After all, not being an annoyance didn’t mean he had to _ behave, _after all. 

And it would be a shame to lose all the progress he’d made so far just because they were switching topics. 

And, from the reluctant amusement curling up the blue lips for an instant, he’d made a good call. 

“What do you want, then, mortal? Fame, fortune? You seem to have those already. Then maybe you wish for more, to wield power beyond your wildest imaginings? Or is it love? Perhaps the death of a rival? Speak your wish and let us be done there.” 

How sad that such a powerful being was called so often for such trite ambitions. 

“None of the above. As you’ve said, I have quite enough in my life to be happy with it. I have no need of your powers to obtain anything I would wish here. Even the disposal of any nuisance. I would not bother you with such trivial matters as those.” 

The King’s eyes narrowed, shrewd. 

“Perhaps you seek eternal life, then? To enjoy the riches of your life for all eternity?” 

Tony’s smile turned wry. 

“I know better than to defy the laws of the Universe in such a way.” 

The hand clenching on his hair relaxed minutely in surprise before pulling harder. 

“Indeed?” 

Tony muffled a groan at the delicious burn over his scalp. 

Now was perhaps not the time for his libido to derail the conversation. 

Or perhaps it was. 

He let his eyes go half lidded, his teeth biting at his lower lip as he glanced at the King’s red eyes from beneath his lashes. 

Very amused red eyes. 

Tony couldn’t help but be amused in turn. That game was the most fun he’d had in _ ages. _ Usually when he used the bedroom eyes on someone they fucking _ swooned. _ Even straight guys weren’t unaffected. 

And Tony could tell that, for all that the King wasn’t reacting, he wasn’t uninterested. No, he just had better self control than to be brought to his knees with a simple _ look _. 

The glint in those red eyes spoke of a dare, of ‘you didn’t think it was that easy’ and ‘you’re going to have to do better than that.’ 

It spoke of someone who’d had people trying to seduce him for centuries and had learned to find entertainment in their failures, someone who saw a new attempt that could be interesting but he would only allow it on _ his _terms. 

Someone who wanted a challenge.

Someone who _ was _ a challenge. 

And for Tony? Tony who was at the top of his world, who always got what he wanted? 

For someone like him, like them both, there was nothing more interesting, more _ enticing _ than that. 

“What is it that you want, then? What was important enough for you to go so out of your way as to meet a being such as I? It cannot have been mere curiosity, there are much safer entities to call for than me for such a quest for knowledge. Nor can it be pride, or a way to prove your worth as a summoner. I can feel your soul whole and untainted by the touch of other demons. You went to seek me out specifically. Now, _ why would you do that?” _

There was something heady to having an advantage over such a powerful being, even as small as it was. The King was clearly frustrated by the lack of information, and Tony relished in that, for as short as it would last. 

It wouldn’t do to overreach after all. Trying this being’s patience was not wise. 

This train of thought surprised him. He generally didn’t care much for other people’s opinions, even when he wanted something from them.

This was rather fascinating. He’d rarely met people who were actually more powerful than him. Stronger? Certainly. But no one else he’d met had that permeating aura of authority, the sheer confidence in his own worth and ability, the arrogance of one wielding _ true _ power. 

Not to be mistaken, Tony _ had _ met powerful people before. People wielding armies and money alike. People leading men and women to their deaths and feeling the weight of that responsibility like a crown. People who _ actually _ had a crown. People with about as much money as he had, and much more blood on their hands besides. 

And yet. And yet none had been nearly so attractive, none had felt so dangerous and alluring. None had ever made him want to… He didn’t know what. Perhaps kneel at their feet and beg for their approval? Bow in respect and quietly wait on their word? Stay prone on their lap and _ be good? _

And yet, at the same time, Tony still wanted to challenge him head on, to be contrary and willful, but not to infuriate, not to be a nuisance as he usually was. No, instead he wanted to tease, to play, to share secret looks and impish smiles. 

That was a first. Usually any authority figure made him want to either throw his own weight around, be as aggravating as humanly possible and buck up against any kind of constraint used against him. 

Like hell was he going to let himself be cowed by a two bit moron who let his balls speak instead of his brain. Maybe it was because he’d always believed himself better than anyone he’d met that he’d simply refused their authority on principle? They were all so dumb, so slow compared to him, he never could even _ talk _ with them without having to dumb down everything he said, slow himself up in order for them to even attempt to follow his trains of thought. It was frustrating, and the mere thought of having to kotow to people like that _ chafed. _

But that King? With his piercing eyes and his clever smirk? 

Tony rather thought he wouldn’t have to slow himself down in order to be understood there. 

It was intoxicating. 

Of course Tony Stark couldn’t find an equal on this plane. He had to look beyond the veil to find a thousand year old _ demon _ before he could find someone deserving his respect and admiration. 

Granted, that was only a first impression. 

Tony let his smile show teeth. He would see if the King was truly as quick witted as he appeared. 

“I am aware that, no matter how fast one runs, death will always come for mortals. And I am aware that I am not exempt from that rule. I am not going to fight this.” 

_ Make of this what you will. _

And indeed the being a cunning spark of understanding showed in the red eyes, a shrewd smile showing the slightest hint of teeth. 

“Ah, so you believe your soul bound to hell’s grasp already?” 

The underlying meaning threw Tony for a moment. He wasn’t? 

He’d thought that he’d been bound to hell for a long time already, if not when he’d been born a Stark or when he’d turned a blind eye to the suffering he’d caused, then when he’d pulled the trigger on a man he’d thought as much his father as Stark senior had been. 

But apparently that wasn’t the case. Or so was the King implying. 

It meant that he had _ options. _

But then the “already” meant that his being bound for hell was still a potentiality. And Tony didn’t like that. 

The mere thought of being beholden to someone’s judgement, of having anyone but himself _ judging his worth _ and deciding whether or not he was deserving of this so-called heaven? The mere thought made him balk, made him want to lash out. 

He was the master of his own fate, had always been. Always, he took steps to insure that no one but himself could impeach on that freedom, and no one ever could pass judgement on him. They had no right. 

He wasn’t about to lower himself like that, begging for scraps, trying to prove himself to people who had done nothing to deserve that. 

And, truth be told, he wasn’t certain that the prospect of “heaven” was a great one either. 

He didn’t know much about heaven, he hadn’t even considered the option to go there, but he’d still seen mentions of it here and there. Because, as often as wizards played at making contracts with demons, some too did manage to call those eldritch entities that were called “angels.” The stories were rarely good ones. 

Not only due to the constant restrictions, necessity to “behave”, but also because… He was Tony Stark. He was on top of the world _ and he liked that. _

He had no intention of giving up his status, his privilege just because his afterlife was supposed to be the side of righteousness. Some people might care about that, about the moral high ground of it, about the famed “eternal peace and happiness.” To Tony it smelled fishy. 

It also didn’t seem worth the effort. 

No, he much preferred a situation where he could simply earn his place at the top, or at least bargain his way there. At least then he could trust what he would be faced with, and choose what he was getting into. 

Better the devil you knew, as they said. 

After all, a little bit of nepotism went a long way. 

So Tony smiled back at this ‘devil’, a defiant smirk on his face even as his body remained pliant in the demon’s grasp.

“Why would I wish to go anywhere else but where you are?” 

The demon blinked in surprise, recoiling as realization crossed his face. Tony had been right, he _ was _ sharp. 

With so few hints dropped, the King had already figured out what Tony had been aiming for. 

Not that it had been that hard to guess. But he knew it wasn’t that common a request either. 

And now, Tony only had to wait in order to find out how the demon felt about his unconventional request. 

He’d realized already that it would be a strange kind of bargain. Tony had no hold over the Demon King at all. The binding circle was broken. With it, he’d lost every advantage and protection a Summoner got when in the presence of a higher being. 

He was very very aware that he was entirely at the King’s mercy.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d lucked out with this, the demon had been interested enough to let him live, curious enough to let him _ talk. _

And high chances were that the heavy drain in his energy wasn’t only due to his inexperience as a demon Summoner, but also a deliberate ploy from the demon to remain unbound. 

Perhaps it was due to the King being powerful enough to force the gate to stay open longer than it should. 

Or maybe it was the King’s sheer power, that Tony could still feel coiled and buzzing under his blue skin. It was more than possible that that had been what had filled the room and crushed him into unconsciousness. It made sense. A sharp change in the air’s pressure, the otherworldly life force snuffing out his own long enough for the entity to free itself from the ritual’s bindings. It was rather clever and hard to predict. 

Tony wondered how many times he’d used the trick. 

Regardless, it left the demon in a more cooperative mood, which Tony rather thought was best, since the resolution of his “wish” could only happen in the infernal plane. And everyone knew that no human ever had any influence upon demons in the infernal plane. 

Tony was about to put himself in a role that would be rather dependant on the other’s goodwill. It was best to see now, in a somewhat controlled environment, if Tony actually _ could _ rely on it. 

It couldn’t be fool proof, of course, but he’d felt pretty safe so far, even with those deadly claws right upon his skull. He knew the danger was there, that he was but a second from death should the demon lose his temper. 

Tony knew he wouldn’t. Not so easily, not without warning or provocation. 

The king was mercurial, but not uncontrolled. 

Like knew like, after all. And he’d never felt that he’d known anyone nearly as much as he knew this demon. The skin might have been blue, the fingers clawed, the head _ horned _—horny?—but the two of them were cut from the same cloth. 

And, as he’d expected, the King didn’t seem mortally offended. No, rather he seemed wildly entertained, something gleeful and _ hungry _ crossing his face. Success. 

And if Tony felt the slightest hint of nervousness at the sight? Well, he certainly wasn’t about to show it just as he was about to get exactly what he’d been looking for. 

Still, it felt as though he was unleashing a sensual predator the likes of which he’d never before met. And he could feel the thrill low in his belly right between nervousness and desire, the heady pulse of desire thrumming through his veins. His breaths grew heavy under the deeply intense scrutiny of those fascinating red eyes and Tony could feel himself start to slip into a haze of lust. 

Not yet, he knew. They still had things to agree upon. 

But his body didn’t quite agree with that, slowly lighting up under the caress of the clawed hand that wasn’t buried in his hair. 

“Indeed, why would you?”

The words were barely a breath, a low murmur of contemplation more than any real attempt at conversation. Tony waited, felling arousal spark up more and more under those inquisitive fingers. 

The King would come to speak out their bargain and lay out terms before anything could go further, he knew. 

And if he didn’t, then Tony himself would have to. 

“Tell me, then, mortal. Do you freely offer your very soul to me for the rest of eternity? To please and pleasure as I will it, only to be pleasured in turn?” 

The Kings voice was low and silky, as soft and sweet as a sharpened blade gliding over his skin along with his hand. It was a sensual threat and a delicious promise all at once, and it was hard to concentrate under the sudden flood of sheer want heating Tony’s blood. 

“Well, mortal? Is that what you had in mind?” 

The King’s hand glided down Tony’s belly, palming harshly at his slowly hardening cock when the human took too long to answer. 

Tony’s groan was a pitiful thing, and yet he still mustered the will to open his eyes again, and smirk back. 

“Depends on what you plan to do with it, my King.” 

The King’s slit pupils widened, rounding like a cat’s when Tony used the honorific for the first time. 

Someone had a kink. 

It was rather adorable. 

Tony smirked, letting his voice drop to a low and sensual gravel. Seduction and negotiation went hand in hand when you were Tony Stark. 

“Do you wish to have my body? My loyalty? Perhaps you wish for my willing submission? Tell me, my King, what is _ your _ wish? How may I serve you?”

Feeling the hand resume its caress over his body, Tony almost thought he had won. Almost. 

There was still a smug smirk on the plush blue lips, and certainly the shrewdness hadn’t been replaced with lust. No, that one was just as used to those kind of negotiations as Tony was. 

Good. It _ had _ seemed too easy. 

“You would serve me best if you got to the point, and stopped trying to scam me, mortal. I know better than to believe in the first pretty promise I listen to.” 

Rude. 

Tony hadn’t even been exaggerating… much. 

The barb had piqued him more than it would have if he hadn’t meant so much of it. 

Because, usually such pretty words would indeed not have been worth the pigeon shit they basically amounted to, but this time… This time he’d been pretty close to believing in them. The only thing that stopped them from being entirely genuine was the deep—and yet not nearly deep enough—lack of trust he felt towards someone who was basically a too powerful stranger who understood him too well. 

And so he grew reckless in his answer, let the brief flash of anger carry the words out before he’d even thought them through. 

“My _ name…” _

Tony never got angry. No one ever managed to rouse anger from him because they were so far below his notice he would sooner notice an ant colony throwing grains of sand at his shoes. 

And yet, this demon had managed it in less than a sentence. Perhaps it was the sting of rejection, but the ill was done. 

One didn’t just give their name to demons, unless you were about to forge a deal with them. 

Names had power, they _ gave _ power. 

But then, didn’t the demon _ already _ have such power anyways?

“...is Tony Stark. Not mortal. Use it.”

And perhaps a show of good faith would make his offer sound more genuine. 

Going from the almost dumbstruck expression that flitted across the blue face, it had indeed had an effect, though Tony couldn’t tell which. 

He didn’t know enough about demons apparently. The stories often spoke of bargained souls, but he’d thought it a wild exaggeration, a metaphor for the often ridiculous prices asked of people brokering contracts with demons, but it seemed there was something else going on. 

He should ask, of course he should. He knew better than to start making any manner of contract without knowing both parties’ demands and understanding each smallest aspect of it. 

But how to ask? 

“You want my soul. Can you tell me what would that mean for me?” 

Slowly, so as to not break the hushed mood that had descended upon them, Tony lifted his hand until the tips of his fingers touched the King’s armn, gently caressing the soft skin. There were bumps and ridges under his fingers, but he didn’t dare remove his eyes from narrowed red ones. 

He had to be careful with that. Explain what he wanted in the clearest terms and make the demon want it. 

Sadly he couldn’t pass it off as the demon’s own idea. He’d Summoned the other, and in doing so, firmly put himself in the shoes of the one asking for a favor. 

But that didn’t make him helpless, oh no. 

“Because I’m certainly not about to agree to being reduced to a mere plaything, to be used then discarded at will. But…” 

Tony slowly let his tongue run across his lower lip, watching carefully as the demon’s eyes dropped to them before snapping back up, fixing him with a hard stare. 

Hard but still covetous. 

Point for Tony. 

“We have systems on this plane, somehow a bit like patronages, where a wealthy and powerful person decides to take a more unfortunate one… under their wings, so to say. They take care of them, and provide for their needs, and in exchange…”

Tony let his finger circle the crook of his demon’s forearm. Clearly, he hadn’t believed in his previous offer, but seduction was always a careful dance. 

Clearly, they were both interested. They only needed to define… parameters. 

“... In exchange the one receiving such… _ generous _ care…”

On a hunch, Tony let his blunt fingernails run along one of the ridges he’d felt along a blue forearm. 

The demon tensed all over, the hand clenched in his hair pulled, tugging his head back and exposing his neck. 

Jackpot. 

“...show their _ gratefulness _ to their benefactor…” 

Tony’s voice went lower, more gravelly, more sensual still. He knew the game, he knew seduction. 

He knew that his demon was letting him put on his show, and the mere thought that such a powerful being was humoring him, playing along with it made a thrill go down his spine. 

He marvelled once more that he wasn’t rebelling against his own powerlessness. But then, it was never the powerlessness that had bothered him. It was the idea of having to answer to a bunch of fools not even smart enough to lick his boots. 

Here, with _ his _ demon, he could believe that it would be different. 

No short-sighted decisions that resulted in ridiculous issues that wouldn’t have happened had they only _ listened to him. _ No boot-licking to incompetence just because of the size of their wallet. No narrow-minded prejudiced fools who took decisions based on fear mongering instead of reality. 

No, Tony had recognized something in the Demon King, something he’d looked for mostly fruitlessly in the human realm, and had hardly ever found. 

Pepper had come close. She was competent, and clever, and a bit ruthless. If there was anyone Tony felt he could leave the company to, it would be her. But she still lacked something, some spark of creativity, of chaos that made her _ too predictable. _

_ His _ demon… Tony felt he could trust. Perhaps not with his self— at least not just yet, not unless he received some guaranties—but with he could trust _ his character. _

“...in any way they both agree to.” 

And there it was. Tony had shown his hand and stated his wish as plainly as he could. The King could certainly extrapolate the rest, he’d had quite the grasp on his current motivations already. 

Tony could have dragged the game on longer, letting the other guess at his meaning and desires, but there was something refreshing to stating one’s intent plainly. It certainly prevented those annoying misunderstandings that came when people expected their partners or friends to basically play at mindreading. 

Good communication was the bedrock of any good relationship. And mutual consent was _ important. _

He could also have been more blunt, but there was something alluring to the art of painting a picture without words. And there was no need to be crass. There was always means to extrapolate on the details later. 

The main question now was if the Demon King objected to the _ nature _ of the arrangement Tony was offering. 

And there was also the matter of souls Tony hadn’t considered. It was obviously something that the King could be interested in having, which made it a good bargaining piece. But Tony was first and foremost a businessman. He knew better than to agree to anything without knowing the ins and odds of it and there was no way he was going to give away something that was _ his. _

What if giving up his soul turned him into a husk? What if demons _ ate _ souls and it fundamentally destroyed the person losing their soul? After all, what use was the luxury he was asking for if he couldn’t even enjoy it? 

But then, after one’s death, wouldn’t he only _ be _ a soul? Leaving his corpse behind, it would be his soul that crossed over. Supposedly. So would giving his soul to the King basically amount to placing himself under his ownership?

Why were the books so terribly unclear about these things? Making uninformed decisions was something Tony would very much rather avoid, as much as possible, and relying only on a single source of information, and a biased one at that, was less than ideal. 

Watching his demon through his half lidded eyes, with want thrumming through his veins and the demon’s hand inches from his cock, Tony could only wait for an answer. 

_ If _ the King even bothered responding to him, of course. 

The ball was in his court after all. 

Accept Tony’s terms, refuse them, lay out his own or disappear. Or kill him. There were quite a few options to choose from, and the inscrutable look on the fine features was making Tony nervous. 

He didn’t show it, of course. He knew better. 

But demon culture was not anything like human culture. Tony might have mortally offended him without noticing, or promised more than he’d thought, or any number of things. 

Though considering how close the King held him, he’d figured proposing anything intimate wasn’t against the rules. 

Granted, the fingers carding his hair and cradling his neck might also serve to check his pulse and his emotional state. Tony had used that trick before, after all. Honeypotting was an incredibly efficient way to extract truthful information. 

But the stillness was wrecking his nerves. And Tony knew when he got agitated he tended to talk in order to cover it up. Babble about nonsense, confuse his opponent and get his footing again after having bowled over his opposition through the sheer amount of useless information. 

He couldn’t do it this time. 

Not only would the demon see through him immediately, but Tony found he didn’t want to disturb the demon’s thoughts. The quiet around them seemed precious somehow. It was peaceful, to be able to remain in someone’s space without needing to fill the silence. Pleasant.

Tony had rarely met anyone he was comfortable enough around to share this. 

He knew he wasn’t nearly as trusting as that with the demon, far from it. He _ knew _ that. And yet. And yet he knew the picture they made, looking in each other’s eyes quietly, Tony lying quiet in the other’s lap. It was more intimacy than he usually shared. Than he _ ever _ shared.

His usual revolving door of a succession of lovers wasn’t exactly suitable for such displays. 

Life at the top of the world was lonely. 

Tony hardly let himself think about it, and never ever complained. But sometimes, very rare times, he’d wondered what it would be to have someone else to care about, someone actually part of his life that made his penthouse seem less empty. 

Usually, it made him smile wryly and dismiss the thought. He’d seen what such selfish reasons to start a family became. He’d lived through it first hand. 

He could be thankful for many things his father had given him. A stable home life was definitely not one of them. 

But sometimes, he could feel himself wallow in that peculiar in-between state, where grief and yearning made themselves known in his chest, clawing at what he very well knew was his human need for companionship. 

_ “Touch starvation. Craving for companionship. Insecure attachment style. Narcissism. All signs pointing to a history of social deprivation and childhood neglect and abandonment. Would you like to tell me about your father, Mr Stark?” _

What a strange mood to be in. 

He rarely thought back to that single disastrous shrink appointment. He’d never tried to see one again. He didn’t need some creep peering into his head to tell him things he already knew, after all. 

But sometimes, rarely, he liked to dwell on that diagnosis. Abandonment. Craving for companionship, for touch. 

For intimacy, love, trust. For someone to rely on, someone to care about him, for him. 

The shrink hadn’t said, but Tony knew himself. Knew his deepest darkest secrets. 

But who could he possibly trust when even the man who’d seen him grow, who’d called him ‘son’ and smiled at him when he’d needed someone to believe in him, who’d been the only one present at his graduation, who’d held him as he cried on his parent’s grave… when the man he’d trusted most had turned out to be a snake in the nest? 

Tony was at the top of the world, after all. It was lonely up there. 

He rarely allowed himself to even acknowledge it, but… Lying in his demon’s lap, feeling the contemplative mood and basking in the lull… 

Tony never usually let himself stay still. Never took the time to let himself _ think. _ There were always things to consider, projects to review, contracts to read and negotiate, accounts to compute, prototypes to invent. There was always something to _ do, _ something to make his mind or hands busy, and whenever he stopped and took time off work, where he didn’t just hole up in his lab until he passed out, then there were drugs and sex and alchohol. Anything to shut off his mind. 

Strangely, this time it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it usually did. It was almost… soothing. Slowly, his arousal had waned until he fell in something that was almost meditative. 

He’d rarely felt so serene, so at ease. 

Funny that he should find peace in the arms of a stranger that felt too much like himself. He should be terrified, should feel trapped or suspicious, or any number of things. 

He didn’t. 

Instead there he was almost lulled to sleep in his arms. 

When the Demon King spoke again, it was in such a soft voice it barely roused him. 

“Demon lore and traditions are long and varied. For time immemorial, our society has been shaped through the trade and consumption of human souls. After all, they’ve been flooding our plane without end for eons. And a demons power can be greatly increased through them.” 

Tony shivered at the grim implications in the King’s words, but decided to postpone his decision. There was more coming. 

“Of course, that was never the only way to deal with those souls, and the practice of binding a human soul to a demon’s has existed for almost as long. Many demons do not understand the benefit of such a practice. They could not see what could possibly be the point to sustain a single soul for eternity instead of consuming it at once? After all, there can be no risk of shortage in new souls, humans die in troves, and there’s yet to be dearth in new visitors in our plane.” 

This was what the King had asked him about earlier. 

_ Do you freely offer your very soul to me for the rest of eternity? To please and pleasure as I will it, only to be pleasured in turn? _

The words had felt strange, a vow and a mutual commitment both. They had felt ancient and ceremonial, and Tony had easily recognized the weight of tradition in those, and perhaps even the personal touches where someone had warped them for their purpose. 

Of course he hadn’t understood them. There had been no way for him to make sense of something that was apparently an old cultural practice, probably so ritualised that every word was rife with symbols and double meanings and cultural implications. 

Hunger for knowledge sharpened Tony’s mind, his entire focus honing on the introspective demon bestowing ancient knowledge upon him. 

A clawed hand brushed along his ribs, reminding him to breathe, to relax as the tale would be a long one still. 

And Tony _ did, _his limbs unwinding until he laid there, loose and placid. 

He wondered at that, once again. 

He knew, when he’d woken on the demon’s lap, his ease had been a ruse, a game of chicken that the king had instigated. It was a dare, to not show weakness, the recoil of fear and horror that any other mortal would display. A way to get the upper hand by insinuating himself so close, too close for comfort and force him to scramble away. 

It had started by Tony rising to the challenge and defying expectations by _ pretending _ to trust, and forcing himself to relax. 

It didn’t feel like a pretense anymore. 

And while a part of himself worried at that, he still remained largely unconcerned. He always had a good sense for people, a gut feeling that was always too careful and yet always accurate. 

The demon still registered as _ dangerous, _ but also as _ his stuff. _ Tony could almost laugh at the irony. 

Obie had never been _ his. _

Perhaps he should have known then. 

The demon’s hand caressed his brow, soothing the worried lines there. Tony’s eyes fluttered before he brought his attention back to the king. 

Blue lips smiled before he continued to his tale, his voice low and soothing, almost hypnotic. .

“Of course, that’s because those demons were small minded fools. They couldn’t know the benefits of a properly cultivated bond, one grown with care and nurtured through shared pleasure. They couldn’t understand how, instead of offering a single short lived power boost, it instead wrought long lasting benefits for the demon. It settles the demon’s own soul, bolsters its power and lets the demon’s core capacity for seidr grow along with the human’s soul. Short sighted morons.”

Red eyes caught Tony’s, a long suffering smile gracing blue lips. Tony smiled back. He knew that trick too. Calling back on shared experiences to build a rapport. 

Funnily enough, this was the first time that it was actually working on him. Perhaps because it was more genuine, or perhaps because he respected his demon’s cleverness enough that he could fathom him being nearly as exasperated with the commoner’s foolishness as he himself was. 

“In exchange for such a great service being rendered, the demons take great care of their human bonds. They protect them from other demon’s cruelty and hunger, keep them happy and healthy enough to share more and more of their souls with their benefactors. Truly, a bonded human’s life is a pampered one, filled with pleasure and luxuries.” 

The demon caressed Tony’s face delicately, clawed tips so very careful. Tony allowed himself a second to bask into the tenderness, before raising an unimpressed eyebrow back at the Demon King. He would need to try harder than that to sell his pitch. 

Tony had been in the business long enough to not be taken in with pretty words.

There was always something not said, a caveat, a hidden cost. 

Something gleeful and hungry glinted through red eyes, a flash of teeth in a razor edged smile before the expression smoothed out, the gentle storyteller back to his tale. 

“Of course, not many humans agreed to such a bond either. They had to agree to be bound to a demon’s life force for all eternity, for one, and their status made it impossible to live amongst other human souls.”

Fair enough. Tony could have guessed as much. Humans were notoriously intolerant to outsiders, and those who cavorted with outsiders, moreso oppressive outsiders were always met with a mixture of disgust and envy. A very volatile combination that ended up more often than not worth ostracization at best and gruesome and humiliating ends at most. 

And if demons invested that much in their “bond”, then surely they wouldn’t let their humans in such a hazardous situation. 

Tony wasn’t worried. He’d always lived isolated. It would hardly change much. 

Anyway, he doubted that any of those he’d defined as _ his _ in life would ever fall so low as hell. They were _ good _ in a way Tony could never hope to be. And, besides them, there was no one Tony would want to be around. 

There was a reason he’d built his own friends growing up. 

But there was more to it than that. There must be. 

Otherwise no human would ever refuse such a bargain. 

The king smirked at his skeptical expression. There was something deeply satisfied to his countenance, as though simply questioning a too good bargain was enough to pass whatever test it was. 

Tony would have to fix that, his demon’s expectations were way too low. It wasn’t even a challenge. 

Did he think greed and the prospect of gaining all he’d wished for would make him lose his head? 

“There is of course more to it than that. Not least of which the fact that demons _ do _ feed on the soul’s energy.”

Ah, _ there _ it was. 

The catch.

“Of course, instead of emptying it all and leaving behind a husk, they would only take a little. Just a sip at a time. And afterward they would replenish it with their own energy, their own seidr, until little by little the human soul stopped being a receptacle of universal energy but instead an extension of the demon’s own power. And the more of the demon’s own energy it held the more precious it was.” 

Tony cocked his head to the side, felling the demon’s hands move with him. He frowned, confused. 

The concept seemed simple enough. The souls themselves seemed to be, from the king’s tale, more like vessels for energy. The shape was dependant on the person, but the contents were apparently always the same for every human. 

And for demons, the contents were their own seidr. Their human bonds basically gave them a second seidr vessel to use. 

Tony could definitely see the advantage of doing it that way instead of simply getting more magic juice from sucking a human dry. 

What he couldn’t understand was… what would the effect on a human _ be? _

Tony had no intention of losing himself, of becoming another version of the demon king, or in any other way being… altered by the process. 

It was one thing to let his body be used as payment for his own comfort. It was quite another to become unrecognizable to himself and basically erased through weird metaphysic mumbo jumbo. 

He stared down the demon, noting the almost sad cast to his features, the bittersweet smile. 

“Of course, this is the thing most mortals balk at. Never in their life do they ever make use of the midgardian seidr filling them, and yet whenever there is talk of exchanging it, or replacing it somehow, humans always worry about themselves being _ denatured _ or some such nonsense. They forget that magic is everywhere, seeping through everything, and that even without a bond, their seidr would mutate simply by being part of a new realm.”

The demon looked away, lifting his hand from Tony’s skin. 

Tony immediately felt the loss, that uncontrollable yearning like a gaping chasm in his chest. He knew what it was, of course. 

_ “Touch starved” _ the shrink had said. He’d looked it up of course, trying to understand the terrifying distress he felt whenever Rhodey released him from his hugs, or when Pepper had laid her careful hands on his arm. That terribly hungry monster in place of his heart wanting to take and take and take _ more. _

He’d started avoiding it. He’d preferred shying away from touch entirely rather than having to confront his demons each time. 

How ironic that the cure for this ‘starvation’ made him even sicker, frustrated and wanting to claw at his own skin like those depressed caged birds, desperately trying to hide his infinite neediness lest it scare away the two people he had left. 

It left him feeling hopeless, restless and raging, unable to find respite or true peace. Of course he would never admit to it. Forbes forbid Tony Stark to ever be anything else but self sufficient. 

And yet, as his eyes tracked the demon’s blue hand after it left his skin, he couldn’t help but admit to it, if only to himself. 

Tony was yearning for touch, had been for years. 

But he wouldn’t let that rule him. 

Agile blue fingers twisted in the air, thin sparkles of light glinting around them before making soft bubbles of light float over his palm. 

They were fascinating, those delicate shiny spheres floating through the air, looking precious and fragile in their slow drifting, but Tony rather suspected they would be hard as diamond. Inside of their clear walls, sparkling wisps of smoke twisted and turned, swirling about in a riveting play of light and color. 

It was enchanting. 

Tony watched, captivated, as the air around one of the bubbles seemed to shine and shimmer more and more until it became a deep red color. 

And then, slowly, almost like a chameleon’s, the sparkly smoke filling it slowly shifted inside it’s walls, the clear white smoke turning pink then reddening then taking on a dark burgundy hue. The King’s hand caught it deftly between long clawed fingers. 

“Mortal souls are like that bauble. They are filled with ever shifting energy, adapting to their environment. And, sometimes…” 

Tony couldn’t look away as a creature made of a darker mist, horned and toothy and monstrous, appeared next to the red bauble and attached to it, sucking out the contents of it until the crystal ball seemed to cave onto itself, its smoke disappearing and it’s light growing dark. 

“They run afoul of creatures hungry for that energy, who have no care for what they destroy in the process.” 

The mist creature appeared inflated for a moment, shining with strength and yet strangely distended, thinned out, like the skin of a distended balloon. 

And indeed, soon enough it had deflated back to its former state, smaller, denser, and just as toothy. 

The other orbs kept floating, unaware of the fate of their brethren, their colors slowly shifting according to their surroundings. 

Tony waited, knowing that now that Loki had demonstrated the ways demons fed on souls, he would demonstrate as well the soul bond he had spoken of. 

The demon let the empty globe pop into nothingness, then plucked another one from the air above Tony’s face, letting its color show a murky gray. 

And like every great storyteller, he hooked his audience and gently steered their opinions with his carefully crafted words. 

“Clever souls have other fates…”

_ ‘Clever’ _ indeed. Tony smiled wryly back at the demon, sharing with a glance that he’d caught the bias, and he would decide _ himself _ if it was the ‘clever’ thing to do. 

The demon smiled back, fierce. The expression was fleeting but eloquent, reflecting back to Tony the way he relished in having an audience that wouldn’t simply be ensnared with pretty words and vague promises. They shared a glance before the blue being went back to his tale. 

“...and clever demons have other desires…”

From thin air appeared another creature, filled with deep green smoke. Tony noted with interest that its horns had the same distinctive ram shape that the king had, and yet it was definitely not blue. 

“...and sometimes they manage to find common ground in a mutually beneficial arrangement…”

Slowly, a tendril of green mist extended from the smoke creature, coming to rest on the crystal surface. Ripples formed where they met, the creature glowing with the influx of new mist, the orb slowly dimming… until a steady flux of green smoke went to replace what was taken. 

Tony watched, mesmerized, the push and pull of green smoke and colorless light, strangely reminiscent of the osmosis of breath, until the orb shone green and bright and the green monster was curled around it like a cat, separate yet connected. 

“...that leaves them both stronger and less vulnerable, with an ally that can never betray them.” 

The corner of a blue lip lifted in a melancholy smirk. 

“It is _ lonely _at the top.”

It was indeed quite a pretty picture, and rather less horrifying than the previous one. 

And yes, Tony could indeed sympathize with the sentiment. He didn’t know if it was genuine or simply spoken to pull on his heartstrings, but he knew very well that trying to find a reliable ally in the shark tank that was the business world was… difficult. After all, he’d grown there, and Obadiah was the perfect cautionary tale. 

Nevertheless, it still didn’t answer his question. 

Wetting his lips, Tony thought on how to phrase his suspicion, without breaking the easy rapport they’d created. 

Perhaps bluntness would do?

“And how am I supposed to trust that this won’t simply change who I am? I hope you realize I have no intention of becoming a mindless magic battery.” 

His eyebrow raised and the easy smirk on his face belied the seriousness of his query. 

He didn’t think the King _ would, _but he hadn’t survived that long by being a trusting naive fool. 

“Weren’t you the one to call upon me?” 

The tease in the demon’s words reassured Tony that he hadn’t mortally offended his new friend by putting his words in question or doubting his trustworthiness. All good things to know before brokering a deal with _ anyone, _ let alone someone he might want to depend upon. 

The words themselves though? Who did he think Tony was, to be misled by such a cheap trick? 

The demon laughed at Tony’s offended face, red eyes crinkling with mirth. 

Tony pouted. 

One of these days, his demon would take him seriously enough to play really _ good _tricks. 

But then, perhaps it wasn’t so bad that their wordplay was such a child’s game. The stakes were high and they were building something that needed to last long. These were small games, bantering and needling. Easily seen through, basically there to make sure the other was paying attention. 

Strangely enough, it was part of what made Tony so inclined to trust the Demon King. 

He wondered how much of it was calculated, and how much was simply because of how _ well-matched _ they seemed to be. He didn’t think it possible to fake that much compatibility. 

Tony really wanted to trust his demon. 

More than that, Tony wanted to be trusted in turn, to be in his confidence, in his bed, at his feet. 

For once in his life, Tony wanted someone’s approval and regard. To be wanted. 

To think, there was finally someone whose opinion he valued enough to be willing to work for it, and he wasn’t sure if he could actually trust the feeling. But his talisman was still a warm weight upon his chest, unchanged since he’d first worn it. There had been no magic cast upon him. 

But need there even be magic, when pretty words could have him throw away his good sense like that anyway?

This whole deal _ did _ sound too good to be true, especially if all he had to give was something he wasn’t even aware he had, something he wouldn’t even be _ losing _ so much as… exchanging? Or perhaps sharing? 

And yet, he still wanted to take that deal that seemed unbelievably generous. He wanted that connexion, that chance of not being entirely dependent on the King, but have him need him just as much in turn. He wanted to have that opportunity for a more evened out dynamic. 

But he also wanted to have this beautiful being cherish him and rely on him. A relationship based on trust and mutual respect. 

Tony had been wanting that for as long as he could remember. 

And there was that _ devil _ dangling his greatest temptation before him like a fine cut of steak before a starving wolf. 

But Tony was no wolf, love-starved or not. He’d damn well make sure the prize was not rigged before reaching out to take it. 

Luckily, it didn’t take much more than that for the demon to start talking again, his lips quirked in what Tony liked to read as a fond smile. 

“I would never do anything that would risk the most beautiful mind I’ve met in three centuries! Do you know how many people I can converse down there that aren’t either so dull could blunt a razor just by looking at it, or such craven sycophants they might crawl before the rats if they thought it might benefit them?”

Tony winced. He knew both types, and the harrowed expression on the King’s face was too long suffering to be faked. 

It sure was lonely at the top, but it was even lonelier if you were a clever guy surrounded by morons thick enough that they couldn’t manage to pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel. 

But was that truly enough a guarantee to gamble his life—and afterlife—upon? Gut feelings, a good rapport, common ground, _ lust… _

Could that be enough? 

And, as he stared down into red eyes, wondering at his life choices, opportunities and luck and privilege, he wondered what his past actions would prescribe for him to do. 

The man who ran before he walked, the thrill seeker ready to hop into bed with the latest harebrained scheme he’d pulled? 

Or the scrappy boy, with too rich suits and a gaping hole in place of his heart, the one who vowed to stay alive and _ thrive _ at all costs and against all odds, on the sheer power of _ spite _ alone? 

The man who trusted no one and nothing, and had respect for even fewer, and yet on this day found in his shrivelled heart enough place for _ respect _ and _ admiration, _ and found the irresistible desire to try, to _ trust? _

Perhaps he could. 

He was Tony Stark. He did what he wanted. 

And this time he wasn’t even risking anyone else in the process. Rhodhey would be proud . Whether or not it was a good thing remained to be seen. 

Slowly, a smile spread across his features, sharp and eager, because when Tony Stark decided to do something he threw himself in head first and never looked back, never wavered, never regretted. 

“Well, then, I can’t in good conscience leave you alone to deal with such dreary company, now, can I?”

The demon King blinked, once, twice, disbelief and wild hope warring across his face as he processed those words, the implied acceptance of their agreement, of all that they could make and _ become _ together. 

A smile, hesitant but genuinely happy drew Tony’s eyes. It was different from the previous ones, vulnerable, heart-breakingly _ true, _and even if the world were to fall around them, he could never regret having put that smile on those blue lips.

“No, I suppose you cannot.”

They still had many things to talk through, terms and details and finagling, but for now, they were in agreement. They had cast their lots with each other. 

And when the demon bent down for a kiss, Tony wrapped his hands around a blue neck, burying his fingers into thick tresses and thin braids, opening his mouth in a sigh as cool lips caressed his own. His eyes fluttered at the slow intimacy, so different from his usual lust filled and rushed foreplays. 

“You know,” Tony breathed, “if we’re going to spend the rest of eternity together…”

The demon chuckled, a whisper against his lips before nibbling at Tony’s bottom lip. 

“Yes?”

“I should probably know your name.”

The demon threw his head back and laughed, fierce and joyful. He bent back down to whisper in Tony’s ear one of the most coveted secrets of the Above and the Below, a furtive smile curving his blue lips. 

Tony smiled back, warm and delighted, before pressing the name back to his demon’s lips, a promise and a prayer all at once. 

“...Loki…”

Their second kiss was just as chaste, delicate but filled with promise. Tony felt his whole being shiver at the touch. 

The echoes of new beginnings and adventures yet to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, if Loki happened to have a signet ring that made the designated ruler of hell unable to speak untruth? Well that just means that Tony would have to sputter in outrage about all that fuss, and the worry he'd felt about being tricked and all of that. It could have all been avoided from the start!  
But then, Loki smiles back mischievously and says: "Sometimes, you need to take a leap of faith. If you always relied on the ring to believe me, how are you ever going to trust me?"  
Tony looks back at Loki, somehow seeing that there's a history to these words, and gently kisses the corner of his lips.  
"Well, then, mission accomplished, Trickster. I've decided to put my faith in you."  
The way Loki's face lightens up is, somehow, worth all the trouble.  
(Then again, it wasn't really _that much_ trouble. He'd had fun. Tony should really do something for his adrenaline addiction....  
Naaah. It would be fine.)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I once more wrote a fic with Tony not knowing (or using) Loki's name until the end of the story. (At least this time it wasn't 47k long!)
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you thought!  
I hope you enjoyed :3


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